Tattoo
by Tragedy Tay
Summary: It looked better from farther away, it looked complicated. Deep. Pretty, even. But when you got closer, you realized that it was really just a pointy oval. Nothing truly special. Ugly. Marissa fic, with MA, and lots of SS. Of course.


**Title**: Tattoo

**Summary**: It looked better from farther away, it looked complicated. Deep. Pretty, even. But when you got closer, you realized that it was really just a pointy oval. Nothing truly special. Ugly.

**Pairing**: Marissa fic, with MarissaAlex undertones. And of course, a shitload of SS. Sorry. I couldn't not write Summer if I tried.

**AN**: Yeah, I still don't like her. But I don't hate her as much as I used to either. Plus, Alex was really hot. Also, I usually name my fics after whatever song I'm listening to at the time, but this one actually has it's own name. Just so you know.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own The OC.

**Rating**: I don't get the new rating system, so it's PG-13, my default setting. I like to swear. It's so fucking awesome.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Marissa doesn't like things that are complicated.

It took her five months to learn to tie her shoes, because the laces would frustrate her, looping together. It was like she didn't have the _ability _to make sense of it.

She makes straight A's because she goes overboard on almost every assignment. She can't stop putting information in, until someone stops her.

She doesn't understand the social scene of Newport either. That's where Summer came in. Since the day they met, Summer had always been a step or two behind Marissa, like a campaign manager, or something. Summer is almost a year younger than Marissa, but she's always been the mom. Summer made sure that Marissa didn't get hurt, she kept track of everything that's gone on, of who they should associate with, of who she should ignore, absolutely everything. Marissa loves her for that.

And that might be the one thing that Marissa really doesn't ever have a prayer of understanding.

Marissa loved Luke, but she couldn't ever imagine marrying him like her mom had wanted. Like she'd planned on doing for years, until she turned sixteen.

And Marissa loved Ryan, but when Ryan left Marissa didn't have the tiny tremor in her voice that Summer had whenever she picked up the phone, when Marissa knew that she was hoping and praying that it was finally _him_.

Summer had been crying when Marissa first saw her after the wedding. She'd been curled on her bed, hand clutched around an unopened letter, eyes clenched tightly shut, unwilling to let anything fall. She sat up straight when Marissa came in, but almost instantly her face fell, and Marissa knew that she'd been hoping for someone else.

And then Summer Roberts started to cry. She'd latched onto her, and Marissa had pulled away at first, surprised. But then she leaned back, and let Summer put her head down, and sob.

_"I love him,"_ she'd cried into Marissa's shoulder, and Marissa remembered vividly the way she'd said it, like it was basic fact, something that Summer already knew, that even Marissa already knew. But it was also something that _needed _to be said, not necessarily to Marissa, but just _said_.

_"I love him."_

And Summer barely stopped crying for two months.

Marissa never actually _saw _her crying again, Summer was careful of that. But Marissa knew that the red eyes, the constant 'cold', the glassy stare, they were much more than the effects of insomnia. Summer's head was 900 miles away, or sometimes it was two months away, and sometimes even in the ocean. Anything that would make her be there with him. Marissa thought about Ryan sometimes, but it didn't overwhelm her like that. She felt like she was more in control than Summer, and she hated it. And she was scared.

Until Seth finally called. Marissa wasn't sure what was said, all she knew was that one day Summer was listless, and the next day she was very, very angry. But that was _normal_. Summer was finally acting typically after a break-up, and Marissa was relieved. Things were normal.

But Seth didn't give up. He called every day, sometimes multiple times, for three weeks after that, and Marissa knew when it was him because Summer's face would turn white, and she would freeze, and listen intently for a few seconds, soaking in his voice, before whispering, _"Are you coming home?"_

Once she got her answer she would turn red, snap her phone shut, and mutter that she had to go home. And after a while the calls stopped coming so much. Summer still got at least one a week though, and about ten on her birthday, along with a package in the mail that she shoved at Marissa without opening.

But she still couldn't understand. She talked to Ryan sometimes, and every time she did, she could feel the pain lessening, she needed him less. Summer just seemed to need Seth more.

And then DJ.

DJ was...he was mostly just there. They hadn't really dated, just gone out to grab food a few times. She hadn't told him much about herself, so he'd spent most of the time they'd spent together talking about himself, and trying to get her to open up.

Idiot.

Anyway, she knew he went to Newport Union, and that he loved his truck, no matter how dorky it looked. She knew that he hated sour cream and onion Pringles above all other foods, his favorite movie was American Pie, and his dad wasn't around. He had a few younger brothers and sisters, so he was trying to help out his mom, and make money for college. That was about it.

It was nice though. DJ was a really nice guy, and Marissa hoped she hadn't screwed him up too bad. But mostly she was with him for comfort reasons. It was normal for Marissa to have a guy, and she really wanted to be normal.

Alex was anything but normal.

She wasn't anything like Marissa wanted. It was amazing how much she was what Marissa _needed_.

Marissa hadn't even known she was falling for her until it was way too late. And once it happened, she couldn't pretend it hadn't. For one thing, she was bad at keeping lies straight, for another, she was too tired. Too tired of life. Fuck it, fuck Harbor, fuck her mother. She just stopped caring.

She knew that most people would consider Alex a bad influence. She'd gotten Marissa to skip school, which she'd done maybe three times in her life previously.

And there was that tattoo.

Marissa loved her tattoo. She adored it. Even though she couldn't see it, even though she knew that logically it wouldn't feel different from the rest of her back, she can always tell when her fingers go across it. She remembers how it hurt, how she was scared.

How Alex's fingers around her's calmed her almost instantly.

Alex didn't like the tattoo when Marissa picked it out. _"Are you sure that **this** is the one you want?"_ she'd asked, confused. _"I mean...It's kind of ugly, Marissa."_ But Marissa loved that too. It looked better from farther away, it looked complicated. Deep. Pretty, even. But when you got closer, you realized that it was really just a pointy oval. Nothing truly special. Ugly.

Alex always got closer.

Marissa was worried that she would realize that she'd picked that tattoo for a reason. It was just like Marissa. She wanted it there to remind her of what she was. Once she got better, maybe she would get another tattoo.

Alex like to wrap her arms around Marissa's waist, and slide her fingers under her shirt, outlining the tattoo carefully, whispering in Marissa's ear that she was beautiful. And Marissa would start to tremble, moving as close as she could to Alex, and she would almost be shaking by the time their lips finally met.

Even now, when she strokes her fingers over it slowly, she can feel Alex's hands, her lips there. And she feels a long, dull ache from somewhere deep inside her. She feels an absence. A void.

Marissa is lost again, and she's finally lost faith that there will be someone to catch her.

Because she doesn't want someone.

Even though the only one she'll ever admit it to is herself., even though no one can hear her when she sobs it into her pillow late at night, she knows that the only one she'll ever want is _Alex._

That's all.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She craned her neck higher in the dimly lit piercing parlor, pondering the list of tattoos for a second time, even though she already knew which one she wanted. A beautiful, curly script 'A'.

She knew where she wanted it, too. By her heart, as close as she can get it.

Because she doesn't need to understand. She just needs to _know_.

And she does. She finally does.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

end.


End file.
